


I know.

by sherlyyoucant221Bserious



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, First Date, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, Sherlock - Freeform, confession of love, otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 10:26:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlyyoucant221Bserious/pseuds/sherlyyoucant221Bserious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson simply wanted the flat a few degrees warmer... What he got was more than he had ever expected.<br/>(Pre-Riechenbach)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I know.

          John shut the door behind him, abruptly stopping the flow of icy air that was quickly cooling the already frigid apartment. He trudged up the stairs to the second floor of the flat, loathing the fact that Sherlock insisted on keeping the temperature at a less than enjoyable fifty-eight degrees. The consulting detective claimed that it was a ‘comfortable’ temperature, despite John’s many protests. Although, John learned to cope, keeping himself warm by wearing jumpers and often a pair of warm socks along with his khaki pants.

          He walked through the door at the top of the stairs, closing the door behind him and removing his coat. He threw his coat onto his chair and started for his bedroom, ready to get some sleep. Sherlock had treated him to a delightful (and candlelit, courtesy of the owner, who still believed that they were partners) dinner at Angelo’s. Sherlock, in spite of John’s concern, did not eat, but treated John to a nice plate of Fettuccine Alfredo. That is, if you consider taking advantage of a free meal ‘treating’.

          John pulled off his trousers and pulled back his bedsheets. Crawling into his bed, he discovered that he was still cold. Not only was he still cold, but his sheets were cold as well! The cold was one thing John really hated. During the war he had learned to deal with heat, but cold was just not something he was used to. He figured he could ask Sherlock to turn the heat up…

          John pulled back the sheets of his bed and rolled over. He put his feet on the ground and brought himself to a standing position. Then, as he was headed for the door, he began to have second thoughts. He didn’t want to bother Sherlock. Maybe he couldn’t stand the heat. Sitting down on his bed again, he began to wonder if he should still ask. He stood suddenly, realizing that this was absolutely absurd. He was overthinking it. He would only ask Sherlock to raise the temperature a few degrees. Sherlock rarely needed his sleep anyways.

          Opening the door to Sherlock’s room, John found him curled up on his side, facing the opposite wall. Just as John began wondering if a few degrees was worth bothering him, the detective rolled over to face John. The first thing the detective saw was John’s boxers, which were at eye level with his position on the bed.

          “John.” Sherlock said, rolling onto his back. He propped himself up on his elbows and his blankets fell off of him, exposing his chest. John noticed that he was not wearing a shirt.

          “Erm, Sherlock..” John said nervously, struggling to direct his attention to Sherlock’s face. “I was w-wondering if-”

          “I know.” Sherlock interrupted him.

          John thought that he had used his skills of deduction to tell that John was cold. Maybe he had shivered, or maybe he became more pale when he was cold…

          “John.” Sherlock continued. He began talking quickly, as if he were making a deduction. “I’ve known since I first met you, John. The way you looked at me, the way your eyes lit up when I deduced you. How you had asked me if I had a boyfriend, then looked so disappointed when you realised that I had no interest in men, nonetheless anyone at all. The way that within a week of knowing each other, you had already killed someone for me. How you had gone on many dates with many, many different girls to avoid the feelings you had for me. You tried to fool me, to convince me that you thought differently about me than you actually did. But, oh, John, you never fooled me.”

          Sherlock grabbed John’s face, slowly pulling him in. John put his hand on the bed to balance himself. Sherlock’s face was now only a few inches away from his own. He felt the detectives hot breath down his neck, and suddenly realized that his own was shallow.

          Sherlock’s voice was nearly at a whisper, and it was so deep that it sounded almost like a growl. His eyes stared into John’s, and they were piercing, even in the semi-darkness.

          “You. NEVER. Fooled. Me.”

          John pulled away sharply, but Sherlock grabbed the hand that had been resting on his bed.

          “Sherlock, I-” John looked at Sherlock, and his eyes made it known that he was defeated. He had tried so hard to hide his feelings, only to discover that the detective had known of them all along. “I’m sorry.” John whispered.

          He felt almost guilty because of his feelings for the Sherlock. John knew that he would never have his love, and that even wishing for it was wrong. And now it was clear. There would never be anything between he and the man he had loved for so long…

          “Don’t be sorry.” Sherlock spoke, his voice returning to normal. “Are you cold?”

          “A little.” He responded, looking at the ground. “But it’s alright, I’ll deal with it.”

          Sherlock slid to the other side of his bed, pulling back the bedsheet on the unoccupied side.

          “No need to.”

          John slipped into Sherlock’s bed, kissing him on the nose.

          “I love you, Sherlock Holmes.”

          “I know.”

 

 


End file.
